I Love You, I Hate You: Part 2

Logan bends down, breathing heavily into my ear. Wet kisses pepper my neck. He grips my hair and pulls me onto his lap. I ride him, his hands on my hips, tits bouncing everywhere. It feels amazing. He feels amazing.

“Say something, Dani,” Logan pants. “I want to hear your voice.”

My voice? Shit. I must have been quiet this whole time. Guys don’t like that. They want to hear every breath, no matter how exaggerated it is, to know they’re doing a good job. At least, that’s what Sarah told me once.

“You feel great.” I wish I could come up with something better, sexier, but it’s all I’ve got.

Logan grins, seemingly satisfied. He grips my hips and lifts me off him. “Get on your knees.”

I roll onto all fours, my cheek resting against a pillow. Logan lifts my ass then slides back inside me. A sigh escapes as my body tightens around him. It only takes a few pumps in this position for my climax to come, too quick and too hot to stop. I moan, letting out a sound I’m immediately embarrassed to have made but Logan seems to like it. He pumps into me harder and faster until pulling out and spilling his seed all over my back.

I fall onto my stomach, hot stickiness making my skin stiff. The bed dips then lifts. I close my eyes, expecting to hear a “Thanks” and then the door closing. After all, people don’t stick around after a one night stand—so I’ve been told.

Logan surprises me by wiping a warm cloth against my folds and then cleaning my back. I roll onto my side when I feel the bed dip again. Logan lifts the covers over our bodies and drapes one arm across my stomach. I stay put, pretending to be asleep because I don’t want to ruin the moment.

He kisses the back of my head and snuggles close. “Goodnight, Dani.”

16

Danika

Hot water washes away my sins. That and a tiny bar of hotel soap. Even though Logan wiped my back with a wet towel last night, I still woke to the skin on my back feeling tight. With no one around and no reason to hide, I thought a shower would be a good idea, so here I am.

I close my eyes, a smile forming on my lips as I think about last night. Sex with Logan was better than I remembered, better than my fantasies. Hell, I’ve got goosebumps thinking about it. My fingers twist through my hair, loosening a rat’s nest of knots when I hear the distinct sound of a hotel door closing.

My door.

My eyes snap open. I wait, my blood feeling like pins and needles beneath my veins. A shadowy figure stops in front of the shower. As thick fingers curl around the cream colored vinyl curtain, I grab the little shampoo bottles, ready to defend myself. I am not dying naked, in Florida, while washing off my walk of shame scent. Even if the walk was only from the bed to the shower.

The beige curtain pulls back and I throw every tiny bottle I have, plus the bar of soap, at once. I’ve never seen the movie Psycho but I know the premise of it thanks to the tv show Bates Motel. Dude notoriously kills people in a shower. Not today, motherfucker!

“Fuck, Dani!” Logan rubs the red spot on his forehead with the palm of his hand. His muscles flex, and I can’t help it that my eyes trail over his body again. The man is like fine wine, better with age.

And naked.

As my gaze settles on his package, I remember I’m not wearing anything and attempt to cover my chest and stomach with my arms, twisting my body to be as hidden as possible. “Get out, Logan!”

Logan sets his hands on his bare hips and shakes his head. “We had sex last night, sweetheart. Amazing, mind blowing sex where I made you cum like five times. There’s no need to hide yourself now.”

He steps into the shower without waiting for an invitation. I turn my back to him and try to slow my racing heart with deep, controlled breaths. Logan only saw my chest last night. This, being completely bare in front of him, is terrifying. There’s no way he won’t notice the stretch marks or my scar and I’m not ready to have that conversation yet.

Or ever, if I can help it.

Logan slips his arms around my waist, pulling me back against him. His head dips, lips finding the crook of my neck and I melt. I don’t know how I’m going to leave this afternoon. Being together again feels so right. But this was the plan, have one last hoorah and then give each other a real goodbye. Maybe then I’ll finally be able to move on. Wishful thinking.

His fingers trail across my stomach, brushing against what I’ve been trying so hard to hide. “What’s this?”

My body stills, the tiny hairs on the nape of my neck bristling. How do I explain the scar? The one I shouldn’t have from a kid that’s not supposed to exist.

“Is this from,” he pauses, his finger still tracing over the thin line. Back and forth. Back and forth. “You know?”

I laugh a little. I do know. I know the eighteen hours of labor only to be rushed into an emergency c-section because the umbilical cord wrapped itself around Molly’s neck. I know that when they pulled her out, all four pounds eleven ounces that she was, Molly didn’t cry. Nona squeezed my hand, reassuring me that everything would be all right as the nurses suctioned blood from Molly’s mouth and nose. Those were the most heartbreaking, terrifying two minutes of my life. “She didn’t make things easy.”

Logan steps to the side and tucks his knuckle under my chin. I look up at him, brown eyes rimmed red. “She?”

Shit. I said too much. Abortion doctors don’t tell you what you’re having. That would make the experience too real and I never led him to believe I had Molly. I clear my throat and step out of the warm water’s spray, pressing my back against the shower wall. “I can’t do this.”

It’s too risky. Not just for me, but for Molly. What happens if Logan finds out she exists? Will he demand custody? Will he force himself into our lives, then walk away when things get tough? And believe me, Molly is no cake walk.